


The Angel

by Im_writing_out_of_time



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Car Accident, Death, F/M, I love my philip, I'm a horrible person, Poor Pip, but the boy must suffer, oh well, there's two parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:11:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_writing_out_of_time/pseuds/Im_writing_out_of_time
Summary: Eliza and Philip are involved in a fatal car accident; the fatality being Eliza. Three weeks later, three-year-old Philip is still waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares.





	1. The Guardian

_The sound of metal clashing was grinding in the damp rain. Glass shattered, and screams filled the air. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and his mommy wasn't moving._

"Daddy!!" Philip screeched. Alexander bolted up in bed, his hair disheveled, head darting around. His arms immediately wrapped around the sobbing Philip sitting up in the bed beside him. The young child threw himself in his father's arms. "Daddy." His sobs filled the nighttime air. He hadn't left his father's side since the accident. 

"Shhh, you're okay, Philip. I promise I won't let anything hurt you ever again," he whispered, brushing his son's hair with his fingers. The leg of Alexander's boxers grew damp and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, Philip crying in his arms. "It's okay buddy. I'll clean you up like I always do and we'll cuddle on the couch, okay? Go jump in daddy's tub and I'll strip the sheets and be right there." 

Philip padded sleepily to the bathroom, still rubbing his eyes and crying. He had been wetting the bed for the last three weeks, ever since he watched his mother die. He wouldn't leave Alexander's side and he hadn't gone to preschool since the accident. 

Alexander pulled the sheets from the bed and carried them to the laundry room. He tossed them on the floor so he could empty the dryer. He tossed the clothes in a hamper and moved the damp clothes in the washer to the dryer. The quiet whirring of the dryer filled the room and Alexander grabbed the sheets from the floor, loading them into the washer. He dumps a detergent cup full into the washer and closes the door, resting his head on the lid. He couldn't do these middle of the night wake ups anymore. 

He cranked the knob on the washer and started walking away before stripping his boxers off and walking back. He opened the lid and tossed them in. Leaving the lid open, he walked through his bedroom and pulled on a clean pair of boxers before grabbing Philip's clothes from the bathroom floor and dropping them in the washer. He poured a little more detergent in and started the washer. 

Alexander was exhausted. Philip had waken him up every night for the last three weeks, each night, screaming him awake with a nightmare, often accompanied by a bed-wetting. He stepped into the bathroom and looked at his son. Philip was sitting naked on the floor, waiting for the tub to fill. Alexander reached over him and turned off the water, lifting Philip into the tub. Bubbles were high in the tub and Philip's chin dipped beneath the suds. His curly hair was soaking up water and suds creeped up the wavy locks. 

"Daddy," he whimpered. "I want mommy." 

That was all he would ever say. Ever since the accident, he hadn't said more than 'daddy' and 'I want mommy.' It broke Alexander's heart every time he would see his naturally hyperactive child slump in the tub, or half heartedly play with his toys. Even now, Philip's hands moved through the bubbles, his face neutral, his eyes dull. 

"Daddy, I want mommy." 

Alexander reached out and caressed Philip's cheek. It was something Eliza had always done to Alexander, something he now did to Philip out of comfort, and it had become habitual. "I know baby. Me too." He sat on a step stool by the tub and ran his fingers through the suds before looking at Philip. "You know how mommy used to bring you to church on Sundays?"

Philip nodded his head and Alexander used suds to start building a soap beard on the child's face. Philip had loved going to church with Eliza. Now he couldn't step foot near their usual pew without crying for his mommy. 

"Well you know how Jesus loved you and me and mommy so much that he died for us?" Another nod. "Well mommy loved you and me so much that she died for us too. She died to save you from the bad, just like Jesus. Okay?"

"Daddy, I want mommy." 

Alexander had to fight the tears that sprung to his eyes. How do you explain to a three-year-old that his mother wasn't coming back? "I know buddy. She'll see us in a really really long time, okay? But now she's an angel so she can watch over you and me from heaven with Jesus." 

"I want mommy," Philip whispered, his tiny voice breaking. He had been such an advanced child before the accident. Many people questioned his age because he was so literate, and the accident had regressed all of Eliza's hard work. 

A tear slid from Alexander's eye. "Me too buddy. I really want your mommy too." He swiped at the tear on his cheek and pulled the plug from the tub drain. "Come on buddy. Stand up and let me get the soap off you." 

Pip stood up and Alexander pulled the shower head down, turning the water on. He worked the clean water carefully through Philip's hair, rinsing soap from the thick curls until the water ran clear. Alexander reached and turned off the water while Philip climbed out of the tub. He stood on the floor mat dripping water. Alexander wrapped a fluffy blue towel- Pip's favorite- around him and swooped him up in his arms. 

"I love you Pip. I love you so much." 

"I love you daddy," Philip whispered into his father's chest. 

Alexander sobbed as he pulled Philip even closer. "Oh Philip. I love you." This was the first time he had said something different, and it was directed toward Alexander. "Come on buddy," he said, pawing at a tear. "Let's go get some clean undies and we'll go watch a movie, okay? You can pick." He set Philip down and the little boy shed his towel and ran naked down the hall. Was he slowly returning to the bright eyed boy he was before? Alexander walked to Philip's bedroom where the little boy was pulling on his underwear. The wrong way. "They're on backwards." 

Philip's movements had slowed and were becoming more sluggish. He was reverting back to the depressed Philip. He stripped off the underwear and slowly put them back on, turning them around before he pulled them up all the way. He staggered to Alexander's room and grabbed his favorite blanket from the floor and his stuffed Winnie the Pooh from the chair in the corner by Eliza's dresser. He walked to Alexander, his blanket dragging behind him, and stopped in front of Alexander, holding his arms up to him. Alexander picked him up and Philip wrapped his arms around Alexander's neck, Pooh Bear squished between them. 

They walked to the living room where Alexander set Philip down. "Go pick something out, Pip." Alexander was ready to drop as Philip rustled through movies, finally picking one and setting it in Alexander's hand. It was a home movie, Alexander could tell by the packaging, but he put it in, hoping it would lull Philip to sleep. 

Philip slowly moved to the couch, his blanket still dragging behind him. He curled up in his blanket on the couch, his Pooh Bear in his arms. Alexander grabbed the remote and sat on the couch, pulling Philip onto his lap. The DVD opened up to Eliza on the kitchen floor, a wobbling Philip taking his first shaky steps towards her. Her arms were outstretched and both her and Alexander were cheering on Philip's every step. His tiny feet slapped the linoleum until he finally fell into Eliza's arms. Eliza scooped him up and pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his forehead as Alexander walked closer. 

_Did you see that daddy?_ She had a bright smile crossing her face as she stared just past the camera at Alexander. 

_I did! That's my boy!_

The video clipped out and another shaking video entered. It was Christmastime and the tree in the background was decorated with plastic ornaments and unbreakable lights. Philip was reaching for an ornament, arm outstretched as Eliza warned him not to touch them. 

_Philip, don't play with the tree._ His arm stretched closer as he looked at his mother, baby teeth poking through his gums. 

_Philip!_

His arm reached a little closer, his grin growing wider as his fingers brushed the ornament. 

Philip, she warned him once more. 

There was a grin on her face. She knew the eleven month child wasn't going to listen. She crawled on her hands and knees towards him and his eyes grew wide. His baby screech filled the room, followed by Alexander, _Run Pip, run!_

The baby knocked the ornament to the floor as he swung around and ran towards Alexander, screeching laughter still filling the air as Eliza crawled after him. She grabbed him just as he reached Alexander and set him on the floor, tickling him. 

Everybody was laughing. 

The clip blacked out over the screen once more. Alexander looked down at Philip who had his thumb in his mouth, his first finger pointing at the screen. "Mommy." 

Alexander pulled him into a hug. "Yeah, baby. That's your mommy." There were tears in his eyes. Eliza had always teased him for recording them all the time, but she made sure she recorded him and Philip too. 

Little did she know it was one of the few things they would have of her. 

They watched the videos as they came until Philip started dozing off in Alexander's arms. "I love you Daddy. Na-night." 

"Na-night baby. Sleep well," he whispered, kissing the side of Pip's forehead. He watched Pip's eyes flutter shut before he allowed himself to cry. His baby boy was starting to talk to him again. He watched the videos, his wife's smiling face shining through the darkness. Alexander fell asleep to the sound of laughter, his wife alive and smiling, his son talking.

* * *

Alexander woke up the next morning with Philip prying his eyes open with his fingers. "Daddy. Time for work." 

Alexander took the three year old and pushed him backwards on the couch, the child bursting into a fit of giggles. Had talking about Eliza opened up his little boy again? Was that all he needed to flourish? "Hey buddy. Do you wanna go to preschool today?"

"Nope." 

"No? Why not?" Alexander stood up and stretched his arms above his head, prompting Philip to launch himself on Alexander's back. 

"I'm going to work with you. And mommy's gonna watch over us, right?" 

Alexander smiled as he pulled Philip off his back. "Yeah, buddy. Mommy's always with us, watching over us." Philip's feet slapped on the floor as Alexander set him down. "Wanna make some breakfast?" 

"I already did!" Philip ran to the kitchen with Alexander trailing behind him and showed Alexander the messy bowls of cereal on the table. "I even gotcha some too daddy!" 

This was the Philip Alexander enjoyed. The hyperactive one. If all he needed to break from his slump was knowing that Eliza was watching over them, then he could do that. "Wow buddy! Thanks Pip." He sat at the table and ate the soggy cereal, smiling at Philip as he shoveled his in his mouth. 

Things were starting to return to normal, and Alexander was enjoying the chaos.


	2. The Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen years after the accident that killed Eliza, she's still watching over her boys. Philip is a beautiful sixteen year old, and Alexander is aging gracefully, but still working himself into a rut. 
> 
> But it wouldn't be a real story without some conflict, now would it?

For thirteen years, Eliza had watched over her family- her son, her husband. She had been allowed entrance to heaven, only to say she wanted to be able to watch over her family. She had been there every time Philip had woken up with nightmarish memories, every time he had peed in the bed. She had watched Alexander get up and wash the sheets, bathe Philip, completely take over her maternal role. 

She had kept them safe. Of course, Philip got in fights as he grew older- those weren't her business to stop. He was strong willed, just like his father. He was sixteen now. He grew up into a handsome young man, brown curls that danced over his shoulders, green eyes that twinkled when he flirted with girls- another thing Eliza would stay away from. She needn't interfere with his love life in death any more than she would have in life. 

While Philip was charming his female classmates, Eliza would watch over Alexander. Alexander, who was always so tired. Alexander, who worked constantly. Alexander, who had not taken another woman in his bed, not even once in those past thirteen years. She wanted to tell him it was alright, that she would understand, but he seemed more happy single. It gave him more time to work. _Work himself into the ground,_ Eliza mused. 

He had aged beautifully. His dark hair had started to gray around the temples, but rather than looking old, he looked elegant. He kept his long hair as she had always loved it. He was in his mid-forties- he was aging too fast. Had her death done that, or was that just how he was destined to age? Often times he would sit at his desk and write, but on occasion, he would stare at his picture of her on his desk, and talk to her. She was always listening. 

She listened to the stories that he told, though she knew them anyway. She had watched them in real time. She loved to sit with him and listen to his storytelling. He always had a way with words. It's part of the reason she fell in love with him in the first place. 

Philip had fallen in love with both written word and music, a beautiful fusion between both her and Alexander. She watched as he stepped in his car and drove away from the school. He was always a careful driver, a side effect of the accident that had killed her. He had been diagnosed with PTSD as a young child and, even now, he sometimes suffered from panic attacks that would make him pull over until he calmed down. 

He checked all of his mirrors, the lights on his dashboard, made sure the music was on low, and swiveled his head to look for anyone surrounding his car, almost obsessively. He pulled his seat belt across his chest and pulled on it, tightening it until it wouldn't move. He pressed play on his phone and turned on his radio, breathing along with the meditation loop playing. He had to focus on his breathing while he was driving. He was terrified of dying in a car accident just like his mother. 

Eliza always say with him in the car while he was driving. He would talk to her as if he knew she was sitting there. He would talk about his day, his dreams, his worries and life aspirations. He always talked about making her proud. And he did. 

Philip pulled out of the school parking lot carefully onto the road. Eliza was amazed at how comfortable he looked behind the wheel. This was the first time she had ever seen him like this. He kept his speed at the speed limit as he headed home. As he got closer, the traffic cleared considerably, and he was even more comfortable. He pulled over and changed his meditation loop on his phone to music- music that he sang along with. 

He was just as good at music as she had hoped he would be. It was her passion, and she was glad Alexander had signed him up for lessons when he was little. They had paid off. His voice was gorgeous, clear, and he knew how to control it. He was the most comfortable Eliza had ever seen him, and the results were beautiful. His eyes sparkled as he sang, a slight smile on his face, and his thumbs tapped the beat out against the steering wheel as he drove. He had grown into a beautiful young man, and Eliza could see it now more than ever. 

* * *

Eliza knew something bad was going to happen before she could see it. She could feel the impending doom before anything was actually happening. 

Philip was driving to Albany by himself, an unplanned trip to spend some time with his grandparents. He was especially close to his grandma, who would let him help her bake. He was leaving the city just as the sun was starting to disappear behind buildings. He opened his window, shutting off the air conditioning, and allowed the wind to push his messy curls back. 

He smiled as he hummed, the radio picking up a station he didn't normally listen to, but the songs were good. Eliza was with him, of course, as she always was. She sat uncomfortably in her seat- could guardian angels feel discomfort? They must, because she felt a hollow churning in her stomach. 

He was driving down the road, humming along to the radio. Eliza saw it before he did. The truck was careening towards the car swerving back and forth across the road. Eliza knew that face. 

That was the face of the man that killed her. 

Eliza left the car faster than she had ever moved before and tried to stop the truck from moving. Unsuccessfully. She gathered as much power as she could and grabbed the man’s steering wheel and yanked it as hard as she could to the side. 

She felt the truck jerk sideways just in time for Philip to look up and fully comprehend what was going on. His eyes grew wide, his hazel pupils surrounded by white. His hands grabbed the wheel and turned it to the side, but not fast enough. 

The drunkard’s truck hit the back of Pip’s car and sent him into a tail spin. Eliza moved to her son’s car once more as the stranger’s truck smashed into a guardrail, followed by a lamppost. His truck caught on fire, a blazing inferno, as Philip continued to spin down the road, his eyes clenched tight, hands gripping the wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. 

“Mommy!” He sobbed. “Mommy save me!” 

Eliza saw the scared teenager morph into that scared little boy right before her eyes. The crying from the back seat that haunted her as she slowly stopped breathing. Those same scared screams of “mommy” that filled the air as she died, now filled the air in her baby’s own car. 

She hoped that man died a painful death. He had hurt her baby too many times to get away with it. She should be bitter that his actions were what killed her, what cut her life short, but she was more than livid that this man was able to walk and terrorize her little boy once more. 

The small car stopped spinning, the driver side colliding with a lamppost, and Philip's shuddering breaths filled the car as the side airbags deployed. His chest was heaving and his eyes were bloodshot, blood dripping from his forehead, tears trailing down his cheeks as he sobbed. His hands shook as he reached for his phone in the center console. 

“9-1-1, what's you're emergency?”

“Um, my name is Philip Hamilton. I was just-” His breaths started coming faster and faster until he was hyperventilating. “Car. Accident.” 

“Philip, I need you to breathe for me, okay? Breathe with me. In, and out.” 

His sobs grew louder as he inhaled with the operator. “I want my mommy,” he whispered between sobs. 

“I know Philip. You're gonna be okay. I have a police officer and an EMT heading to where your cell phone is pinging, but can you give me a description of where you are?” 

“Um,” he breathed shakily, turning his rear view mirror. “The other car hit a guardrail, and then a lamppost. It's on fire now.” A small pause. “Can I call my daddy?” 

“Philip, I'm gonna need you to stay on the phone until you can see emergency personnel, okay? Can you do that?”

“Okay,” he said. He was silent as he waited, save for the soft sobs and shuddering breaths. “I see their lights. I hear the sirens.” 

“Okay Philip. If you're sure it's them, you can call your father.” 

“Thank you,” he sobbed, hanging up. His hands were still shaking as he pressed dial. 

Alexander answered on the first ring, for once. “Hey, Pip. What's going on?”

“Daddy!” He cried. “I was in an accident. I- I want mommy.” 

“Pip, are you okay?” 

“I-I-”

“Philip,” Alexander crooned. “Please calm down. Please breathe. Okay?”

“I think I'm okay,” he whispered. “The EMT is walking to the car. I'll call you when I can. I love you, Daddy.” 

“I love you too, Pip.” 

The first responder moved to the passenger side window and knocked on it. Philip’s hand fumbled with the button before finally rolling it all the way down. “What’s your name?”

“Philip Hamilton.”

The man, decked in firefighting gear, smiled softly at him, a determined look on his face. “We're going to get you out as soon as we can, okay Philip?” Philip nodded his head before leaning back against his headrest, his eyes drooping. “Philip, bud, I'm gonna need you to stay awake for me okay? What hurts?” 

“My leg is killing me- I think it's broken. Um,” he whimpered. “My head hurts, and my chest feels really tight. It's really hard to breathe.” 

“Okay, Philip. I'm gonna get you out of there. Can you move?” 

“Maybe?” He said, reaching for his seat belt. The seat belt zipped away from his body and he shifted his weight in his seat, crying out in pain as he shifted his leg. “I think my leg is broken,” he sobbed, pulling himself over the center console. He collapsed in the passenger seat after grabbing his phone, too weak and exhausted from the adrenaline crash, and the firefighter pulled him from the car, cradling him in his arms. 

“We're gonna get you to the hospital, Philip. Is there someone we can call to meet you there?” 

“My dad,” he said, handing the firefighter the phone. The firefighter stripped his gear and tossed it to the floor before grabbing the phone from Philip's shaking hands. The paramedics in the ambulance worked on him while the firefighter’s soothing voice droned on in his ear. 

“Okay, Philip. You're dad’s gonna meet us at the hospital.”

“Did the other man die?” The man’s head nodded solemnly. “Good,” Philip spat. “I hope he rots in hell.” 

“Philip-”

“He was drunk, wasn't he?”

“Yeah.” 

Philip set his head back down on the stretcher and closed his eyes. “I saw his face. I know him. He's the same man who killed my mom thirteen years ago. He was a drunk driver back then too and he almost killed both of us. My mom took the brunt of the impact. I was only three at the time.” He grabbed the firefighter’s hand for comfort. “I watched my mommy die,” he whimpered. “And I thought I was gonna die too.” 

“Sounds like your mom was watching out for you, Philip.”

“I know she was,” he said, smiling at the thought. “I could feel her there.” 

The rest of the ride was quiet, the paramedics trying to set his leg back in place, the only sound coming from the dispatcher radio in the cab. Philip was right, Eliza had been watching out for him, but at what cost? She sat by his head in the ambulance, stroking his hair; those long flowing curls she had refused to cut, even when he was a baby. 

She was tired, so very, very exhausted. She hadn't felt this drained of energy since she had been alive. For thirteen years, she had kept her energy levels high, but now, she felt ready to drop. She felt the need to go back to heaven, to sleep, or rest, or what ever angels do when they feel this tired. 

She kissed Philip on the forehead as they pulled him from the ambulance and she wandered, wondering how to get where she needed to go. Before she knew it, she was no longer wandering around the streets of New York, but instead in a room of stark white- a soft, comforting white. 

“What am I doing here?” She asked the man who appeared in front of her. “Why am I suddenly so tired?” 

“Elizabeth, as you were told when you first died, no human has ever become an angel after death- you were our first. You were allowed to stay on earth as an angel to keep watch over your family- your young Philip and dearest Alexander. However, you were given rules that you must not interfere with human matters. Explain to me why you interfered today.” 

Eliza stepped forward, the angel in front of her standing his ground. She was only a newborn angel; he had been guiding souls for millennia, she couldn't scare him. “That was my baby down there. I couldn't just let him die!” She said between clenched teeth. 

“But you were ordered not to interfere with matters, Elizabeth! And yet, today you caused the death of a man, a sinner who could have been saved upon death.” 

“A sinner who deserved nothing more than the hottest pit in hell,” she spat, causing the angel to gasp. 

“Elizabeth you must not speak like that. All sinners are saved by Christ, should they so want to be saved!” 

“That man killed me. And he was about to kill my son. Do what you want with me, but I refuse to sit idly by and watch the ones I love be ruined by a man who didn't deserve to live in the first place.” 

“Elizabeth, it causes my being great pain, but you are no longer allowed to be an angel. You will be cast away from those of us who understand and follow the rules of the angels. You will be stripped of your wings, and you will return to earth. From there, you are out of my hands and you must decide whether you wish to become a fallen angel who spends eternity in Hell alongside Satan himself, or a mortal soul who walks alongside Jesus. I hope, dear Elizabeth, that this time you make the right decision.” 

She stood and stared at the being in front of her. He was glowing, his bright wings fixed on either side of his spine. He was much taller than herself and his face was a mixture between being stern and solemn. How it must hurt his being to cast his own angel away from guiding souls. She smiled at him as her wings dissolved away from her body. “I'll make the right choice for me.”

* * *

Eliza had always loved watching over her family under the guise of being an angel. It had been calming, peaceful. She had watched Philip grow up, and yet, she didn't realize how much growing he still needed to do until he had cried out for her. Even now, laying in a hospital bed, Alexander by his side, he looked more like a child than a sixteen year old boy. 

She took post at his bedside, her hand resting on Alexander's shoulder, the other hand dancing its fingers through Philip's curls one more time. “I love you so much baby boy,” she whispered. Alexander looked calm, for once, as he held Philip’s hand. They were talking, something that didn't happen often enough, and Philip looked joyfully animated. 

They were talking about literature; like father, like son. 

Eliza smiled, knowing they'd be okay without her watching over them 24/7. She would miss all the time she spent watching Philip grow, and watching Alexander work, or just sit at his desk and talk to her. She stepped away from Philip and moved to Alexander, her hand resting against his cheek. By the look in his eyes, she was sure he could feel her. “I love you Alexander. Please don't work yourself into your grave. You need to stay alive; for me, for Philip. You're brilliant, and a wonderful father. I know how much you doubt yourself, and I'm telling you not to. You're such a good father Alexander. I wish I could have been by your side in life, rather than watching from death.” 

Her lips pressed against his, and his eyes fluttered shut, imagining her there in front of him. They opened just as gently as they had closed, and he stared at Philip. He was the perfect mixture of himself and Eliza. It broke his heart that Eliza hadn't seen her little boy grow up. But she had. 

“Philip, my sweet Philip,” she started, moving to grab his free hand. “I'm so proud of who you've become. You're such a beautiful young man. Find a girl that's good for you, that you know I'd be proud of. Listen to your father, but get him to slow down his working. Make him spend time with you. Make sure you both know how much I love you. I'm gonna make sure I check in on you, and you'd better be the same sweet boy I know and love.” She pressed her forehead to Philip’s and he suddenly stopped talking. “Stay safe, baby.” 

And she was gone. 

“Dad?”

“What Pip?” 

“Did you feel that too?” 

Alexander smiled. “I always told you your mama was watching, Pip.” 

“Yeah,” Philip said, tears in his eyes. “I guess she was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stalk me on tumblr
> 
> @im-writing-out-of-time

**Author's Note:**

> Stalk me on tumblr 
> 
> @im-writing-out-of-time


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